Winchester Brothers: The Naked Chef English
by Etha M.R
Summary: Dean and Sam became a one-day chef. Season 1, with AU timeline. No Slash


Summary: Dean and Sam became a one-day chef. Season 1, with AU timeline.

Disclaimer: Still dreaming.

A/N: Yay! It's been awhile since my last post. What can I say, final exam and the college-searching adventures drives me nuts! Anyway. It's all done now so yea! Back to business!

"Sammy, I'm starving."

"If I heard you say that again Dean, I'm going to get ears cancer."

"How could you say that to the poor, hurt brother of yours?"

Sam turned his eyes from the news he's been watching, looked incredibly annoyed. Dean stood behind the couch with a pair of crutches propping his body, a look of fake sadness plastered on.

"Like you haven't got a broken bone before," Sam muttered.

"Ah, you don't know how miserable I am," Dean said, shaking his head as if sorry for himself. "Because you still have two feet, intact and healthy ...."

"Dude you exaggerating things. Three more months and you will be as good as new. "

"Three months without driving my baby! Oh, joy! "Dean snapped.

"Shush! Shut up! "Sam said finally, pretended to listen to the news again, which was reporting an international tour of a circus group. Not good enough to divert attention from Dean who was in the whining mood, unfortunately. "If you want to eat, Pam said she had a chicken pie and the recipe in the kitchen."

Pam was the wife of a hunter whose house became Sam and Dean's stopover since a week ago. At first the brothers had refused to stay with them, but Lucas, the hunter, force them as the form of an apology as well as gratitude because Dean had saved his life from Manticore (yes, the three hunters were also won't believe it if they didn't see it themselves) by pinned the beast to a tree with the Impala. His efforts succeeded in giving the opportunity to Sam to yank out its heart, but he broke his right leg because when he crashed his car he was still on the gas. His baby also quite wrecked, giving another reason to stay at Lucas' house for some time. Pam spoiled him like a prince, made him stay in bed while she made delicious meals which Sam brought to his room. Dean found his baby brother's new job as his personal usher ludicrous and soon pestering Sam became his new hobby.

"A pie recipe? She must be kidding, "Dean chuckled, "what is it -- open the wrapper, put it into the microwave, wait until done? Yeah right." Dean was still chuckling as he left the living room to the kitchen, and Sam, despite his wish for Dean to stop ruining his afternoon, put his ears to listen to the sound of crutches, made sure Dean didn't slip and fall again like yesterday when he insisted to go the bathroom on his own and ended up slumped on the wet floor, head bumped the sink. Luckily he wasn't concussed. Dad was right, he was bull-headed. Literally and metaphorically.

After made sure Dean made it to the kitchen in one piece, Sam returned to watch television. The News had replaced by the re-run of reality show about car modification, didn't steal his attention. He was too lazy to get up from the couch to take the remote (whoever put it there must be an idiot, Sam thought annoyed), so he straightened his long leg, trying to reach the remote with all his will. He was too focused on his effort he didn't realize Dean was standing behind him.

"Sammy, stretch a little longer and you're going to compete with the Causeway."

Sam jumped. "Want to give me a heart attack, huh?" He snapped.

"No," Dean answered innocently, with a huge grin on his face.

Sam grumbled incoherently. "What now?" he asked.

"There is no pie," Dean said with just a hint of protest, as if it was Sam's fault.

"Really?" This time Sam got up from the couch, went past Dean to the kitchen, Dean trailing behind. "She said there is."

The kitchen table covered with foods which seemed to come from the cabinet. Dean must have been very eager to find the pie in question. He studied the materials carefully. There's flour, some kinds of spices, weird foodstuff, pasta, weirder foodstuffs, two boxes of cereal, onions, mayonnaise.... Sam's eyes stopped on a piece of paper on the end table, partially hidden under a bag of flour. He pulled it off and read it, then laughed.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked, inching closer, trying to read the paper too.

"Dean, she's right. She's got the pie in the cupboard and fridge," said Sam, grinning suspiciously.

"In the fridge?" Dean rushed past him brother toward the refrigerator, almost slipping on the linoleum if it weren't for Sam, who was clutching his arm. Dean pulled his arm, opened the fridge, and started to take out all of its contents.

"Where is it? No pies," Dean repeated his protest after three quarters of the contents moved to the outside world.

"To make a pie," Sam read a piece of paper in his hand with the air of someone declaiming, "you will need butter, flour, eggs, and a little olive oil."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm not interested in hearing your note from that nine o'clock cooking show," he said, taking a strawberry and ate it. "I want pie."

"And to make the topping, it takes the chicken, potatoes, carrots, and peas. You can also add the cheese," Sam went on, still with that strange expression on his face, as if he were enjoying a private joke.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever." Dean waved his hand dismissively. "I just want to eat ...." he stopped, looked at Sam full of horror.

"You want to eat pie, Dean."

"Oh no, don't even try to tell me ...."

"So you have to bake it. Step by step."

"This makes no sense, I'll sue her!" Dean barked, "Pie is an instant food! Packed in plastic and baked in the microwave for fifteen minutes!"

"Well, it seems she had a different opinion with you," Sam replied simply, shrugging. "If you don't want to bake it then order pizza."

"Sammy boy, why did she never order pizza for me? Oh yeah, because the freakin' pizza deliverer can't reach this place! "Dean began to gripe. A hungry Dean can be grumpy, and a Dean who couldn't order food because of living in secluded place was a total grouchy, a mixture of both could destroy Lucas's house, with only one foot.

"How 'bout omelet?"

"I blame the person who mentioned the pie, so I'm not interested in eating other food."

"You're such a baby," Sam said, frowning. "Oh, well. Bake a pie, then. Here's the recipe. "He handed him the paper in his hand, which wasn't taken by Dean.

"Sammy, do you remember when we were kids; you come home from school and saw me in the kitchen, wearing an apron, make a chicken pie for dinner?" Dean's tone suddenly changed so nostalgic.

Sam somewhat confused, as long as he recalled Dean never really cooked for him, only mixing canned this and that on top of Teflon or the microwave. And he definitely never wore an apron. "Umm .... No?"

"Me neither. BECAUSE DEAN WINCHESTER WILL NEVER BAKE A HOMEMADE PIE! I'm a real guy, for pie's sake!"

Sam flinched. Okay, there was only one way out. "We'll bake it together."

***

"I just know there's something called un-canned peas." Dean held up a bowl full of green peas, sniffed suspiciously as if un-canned peas are Mars people's meal.

"Maybe Pam bought them from farmers," Sam replied casually, hands deftly peeling carrots and cutting its sides to make it flower-shaped. Something which, according to Dean, wouldn't occur to a normal guy.

"Heh, that reminds me of The Naked Chef," Dean quipped, "and talking about naked, that reminds me of this chick in New Jersey ...."

"Don't start."

"Start what?" Dean feigned innocence.

"I don't want to listen to your porn speech while cooking, thank you."

"You're just jealous because you had never spent a night with hot chick, dining table, and whip cream," Dean teased, smiling nastily.

"Why don't you just shut up and peel the potatoes?" Sam muttered, disgusted.

"Because I'm suffering from broken bones."

"Since when do you wear legs to peel potatoes?"

Dean huffed. "You're a naggy mother."

"I won't nag if you help me here, Dean," Sam said, holding up the potato peeler in front of his brother's nose. "Just… make the dough, ok?"

"Yes, Sir, "Dean muttered, read recipe then started to collect the ingredients, put them into a plastic bowl to mix it.

"Ah, everything is easy for housewives these days. See, automatic mixer." Dean showed the mixer to his brother. "Back then I used a spoon-mixer to make our pancake, and that was a way to torture my delicate hands, I swear," he added seriously. Sam snorted a laugh. "What?"

"You sound like a grandma."

"I think I sound like a modern life observer," Dean protested. "Oh, wait. That's a job for nerds." Sam rolled his eyes, went back to his tasks peeling the potatoes and carrots. Dean put the dough on the mixer.

"Uh, wait a..." too late. Dean had turned on the mixer, straight to full speed. Butter and eggs sprayed onto his face. "Start from the slowest speed if you don't want to get sprayed all over," Sam laughed.

"Thanks for the advice, son. Very very helpful." Dean wiped his face. "I wonder why no one from Flight 180 died because of this evil thing."

"That's because they are smart."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

After that the cooking process lasted quite calm. Dean, who had mastered the mixer, have fun with it, made a dough then mixed it with flour, massaging it ("Imagine this is a chick's back," Dean said, again with nasty face). Sam did most of the tasks, not just peeling and cutting vegetables, but also chopping the chicken, melting the butter, and mixing spices. When Sam stirred the potatoes and chicken - mixed with a little mayonnaise, on Dean's order, his brother began to fuss again.

"Why are carrots and pods were left behind?"

Sam explained with the air of a master chef, "to make a pie, we must mix the chicken and potatoes first, and then put the carrots and peas on top of all. Orange and green colors will make the pie looked prettier."

"Did you just talk about pie's prettiness? Sam, this time you're really freaked me out."

While the pie was being baked, the two brothers cleaned up the kitchen that looked like it had been hit by hurricane. Just to make a pie they spent almost the entire foodstuff, some made it into the pie, some were scattered on the floor. Dean nearly fell for the second time because his crutch landed on an egg scrap, and once again Sam became his savior. They wasted half a bottle of soap to wash the mess they'd created and played soap-war.

Finally, two hours after Dean whined for food, they sat face to face at the table, each eating half the pie. The crust was a little scorched but the topping wasn't quite cooked because Dean kept peeping off the oven, but overall tasted pretty good. Especially since the cooker were two guys who had never made any real pie before.

"You're pretty creative," Dean said, poking Sam's flower-shaped carrot, inspecting it. "This shape is little feminine, though."

"Yeah, Jess taught me when I was at Stanford." By the time those words came out of his mouth, Sam hoped to take it back. Jess' death still fresh in his memory, he often had nightmares about her burnt alive on the ceiling. And the fact that Dean knew about the nightmares wasn't help, either.

"Oh, maybe she thought it's fit with you," Dean joked to erase the growing awkwardness.

"Bite me," Sam replied, smiling a little. "By the way, I can't help wondering why you have an idea about the mayo," he changed the subject.

"Actually it was...." Dean stopped the words that had reached the tip of his tongue. Actually it was Mom's secret recipe. Although he never cooked their own pies, he vaguely remembered seeing Mom added a few spoons of mayonnaise into her homemade pie, pie that had different taste with any other pies he'd ever eaten. Their pie's taste wasn't the same as it either, but using his Mom's recipe made Dean felt a little closer to home.

"Actually it was what?" Sam asked curiously.

Dean put a big grin, showing half-chewed pie wedged between his teeth. No need to add an awkward situation by remembering those who have died. "Actually, it was the fruit of a genius mind," he said proudly.

And Sam threw a spoonful of his pie topping as a reply.

And Dean threw his smart remarks that made Sam speechless.

And that afternoon went nicely for both of them.

* * * END * * *


End file.
